“Echoes”
Chapter Three
Pain. That was all Nosedive knew. It coursed through his entire body, fed his throbbing head and neck, curled down his taunt arms to his wrists, which flamed, before finally ending at his knees, which froze upon the cold earth.
Actually, y’know, agony was a better assessment.
A soft, leathery hand cupped his beak, and the thumb of the person stroked his right cheek in an almost comforting manner. Nosedive thanked his lucky stars for Wildwing and allowed a groan to expel some of the torture his body endured.
“I was hoping for more of a pain-filled shriek,” his brother said, “but I will take what I can get.”
And Nosedive realized the person wasn’t his brother.
The nineteen year old shot back and gave the Saurian what he wanted when his arms neck and shoulders protested. He never looked over his shoulder—couldn’t—but by wringing his hands, he felt the leather strap digging into his wrists. He stopped promptly because any movement scraped the trunk of the sapling across his back, chaffing the naked area. In fact—he looked down at his kneeling legs, which thankfully still wore jeans, but his shirt was missing, as was his jacket.
Great. How could this situation get any better? Kneeling on the ground, lashed to a tree in the Canadian northeast, and half-naked with a crimson Saurian standing before him not looking at all cold wasn’t Nosedive’s idea of a good time. And weren’t Saurians supposed to hate the snow and all that? Nosedive, at the moment, did, for the precipitation had melted due to his heat and now froze again on his jeans, and the cool breeze, which normally felt soothing against his face, blew his chest feathers and sent a violent shiver through his body.
The Saurian bent down on one to be even with Nosedive, though he kept his back straight to still be a foot taller. He took Nosedive by the face once more, which the teen allowed only because he had no choice.
“So, you’re Flashblade’s younger brother, hmm?”
“Why do people always say that?” Nosedive retorted with a snort. “You do realize my last name is Flashblade, too, right? So, technically, I’m not really ‘Flashblade’s’ younger brother.”
“Excuse me.” The Saurian bowed slightly, his head never falling further than Nosedive’s. “You are correct. I should haven’t have presumed. You are Wildwing’s brother, correct?”
So, this guy wasn’t sure. Hm. “What makes you say that?”
The hand his face tightened, and with one tug, the Saurian unleashed more agony upon Nosedive’s body. “You are him. Of that I have no doubt, but if you continue to petulant, then perhaps I will not be merciful.”
Why did these guys always threaten? “And if I scream again, there is no doubt that my brother and his team will come and kick your ass.”
The Saurian stared for a full moment before throwing back his head and letting out a haughty laugh. “Oh, truly, Flashblade, my lord is right. You are a jester.” His serious face snapped into place once more. “Do you truly believe I would kill your teammate and not flee?”
Then it was true, Nosedive realized, his heart failing to beat the same. Grin was dead. All that blood, that yell—It was real.
“No, my little hostage,” the Saurian attempted to draw him back into conversation, as if he hadn’t just killed one of Nosedive’s family members. “I dragged your limp carcass at least ten miles, if not twenty, which means.” The Saurian leaned forward and whispered alluringly into Nosedive’s hear, “I can do whatever I want to you, and no one would ever hear you.”
The teen’s entire body stiffened, and he stared over the Saurian’s shoulder just to not have to see the smirk on his face. Nosedive closed his eyes to hide himself, to hide whatever dignity he may have left, but the Saurian did nothing more than smooth the feathers on his cheek.
“But I won’t, of course,” the Saurian finally divulged before slapping Nosedive across the face and standing. “If I broke you, well, then, how could you be of any use to me? You must retain that pride, Flashblade, if you are going to be of any worth—”
“I’ll never help you,” Nosedive vowed, his body once more functioning, albeit still quivering in the coldness of the forest.
The Saurian laughed good-naturedly. “I have learned from this venture not to presume. You should as well.”
“….so now what?”
“Now, I leave.”
Nosedive’s blue eyes narrowed. “And what? You’re just going to let me go, and the challenge is for me to get home and not die?”
A grunt choked out from Nosedive’s beak a moment later, and the teen realized he never actually saw the Saurian’s foot hit his stomach.
“What did I say about presuming? No, I have little doubt you could survive out here if you were freed, and even if I kept you lashed to the tree, with your Puckworlder feathers, I say you would be alive into next week—baring food and water, of course. No, my little hostage, this is a test.” The Saurian’s mouth curled into an evil grin. “You are to survive attached to that tree until your brother can save you. However, the real hardship is not to be eaten by anything that’s drawn to the smell of blood or to bleed to death.”
Nosedive inhaled sharply to sit upward but glanced down at his body. “What are you talking about? I’m not bleeding.”
The Saurian turned toward him, and Nosedive’s eyes went wide.
Like the foot, he never saw the weapon, only the bright red flash, and felt the momentum that drove him against the sapling and drew more agony. The crimson first fled his body in torrents, coated his right breast and seeped down to his jeans, and though the frozen temperatures slowed the flow, the blood still flowed from his body hastily.
Nosedive never saw when the Saurian left, never really opened his eyes after the shot. He simply leaned back against the tree’s trunk and focused on breathing. Gradually, his mind whirled unbound, and he lost track of where he was, what happened, and only felt the pain with every inhale and exhale. The coldness seeped into every fiber of his being, chilling him to the point where he no longer froze, where he no longer felt.
Time had no significance, but as far as Nosedive was concerned, he had been lashed to that tree for an eternity and would stay there forever—
Until death.
Th-Thump. Th-Thump. Th-Thump. Th…
“I’ve got you.”
…What? Who?
“Don’t worry, little brother.”
Wildwing?
Though there was no stuttering, fear and desperation penetrated his brother’s voice. He tried to remain strong for Nosedive, so he didn’t think there was anything wrong, but the teen wasn’t stupid. He knew he was dying.
“NOSEDIVE!” a petrified cry sounded far away, marked with tears. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, and he hardly let out a grunt from the pain. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength.
The bonds holding him to the tree were cut, and Nosedive felt a jacket thrown over his shoulders, while another person pushed a piece of cloth down upon his wound. A hand gripped his own and squeezed, and he knew unconsciously that he lay in Wildwing’s protective lap.
“I’ve got you, baby bro,” Wildwing uttered, placing his head upon Nosedive’s. “I’ve got you.”
When Nosedive finally looked up, he didn’t see Wildwing as he knew him. His brother looked younger with not so much guilt and urgency in his eyes. He still wore his battle armor, though he had shed the Mask.
Wildwing smiled gently, and tears sparkled down his cheeks. “I’ve got you, baby bro.”
Nosedive hadn’t felt safe like this in such a long time, and though he knew it was wrong on some level, he still reveled in his brother’s embrace.
“…I know…” he whispered and finally relaxed.
*^*^*
The hand upon his forehead played with his bangs welcomed him back from the reenergizing sleep, but by the calluses upon the fingertips and the raspy humming, Nosedive knew the truth. Reality maliciously slapped him in the face.
“Hey, Canard,” he choked, then coughed, feeling the vibrating in his torso. Aw, man. Broken ribs rankled, but thankfully, he missed the majority of the agony. A dull ache held, but nothing he couldn’t withstand. How long had he been out?
As he opened his eyes, he was already pushing up, and Canard was already pushing down upon Nosedive’s chest. “Where do you think you’re going? You have a half dozen busted ribs, not to mention a broken arm—”
Ah, that was the sudden stabbing on his left side.
“—a concussion, and you’re lucky the medics could stop the internal bleeding. I think this whole experience should have taught you a very valuable lesson.”
“And just what might that be?”
“Don’t jump off cliffs. It’s not exactly brain surgery, kid.”
Nosedive stopped pushing up and instead leaned back upon his arms, letting a tired smile creep upon his still cut but healing face. Canard was ever the same, and in some instances, even worse than Wildwing when it came to fussing and worrying. Nosedive would never have it any other way. Canard kept him sane and in some instances, from committing indirect suicide.
Canard crossed his arms over his chest and gave Nosedive an exasperated what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look. He sat a little lower than the bed in his murderball-fashioned wheelchair, which allowed him to move faster than Nosedive much of the time. Gloves cutting at the knuckles held his hands tightly, which kept feathers and skin on his palms when pushing the wheels. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt the Mighty Ducks logo upon the left breast along with jeans like Nosedive’s uniform. Though his body still was young, especially for a thirty-two year old, his face was worn, exhausted with worry lines, and a large, aged scar tore down his left cheek.
Nosedive ignored any further protest from Canard and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He held in a grunt at the aching in his bones and muscles, then let out a deep sigh. “How long have I been out?”
“Two weeks, three days, four hours, and about—” Canard leaned over to see the alarm clock on the end table. “—twenty-seven minutes, but hey, who’s counting?”
“Yeah.” He groaned as he stretched his back and slowly sat upward. “I hate to say it, but Dreg? Did you—”
“Found him dead, a few feet from you. He was shot in the back by a laser.”
Silence claimed Nosedive as his eyes drifted downcast. Stars, he never liked Dreg, but the Saurian didn’t deserve to die that way. Maybe…Maybe on some level, Dreg blamed himself for Wildwing’s death, like Nosedive had done for years and now had felt the need to atone for it.
Hell, maybe he just used his body as a shield by accident.
Canard’s voice strained. “Stars, Dive, what happened? One minute you’re just meeting him, and then—”
“Varkais.”
That one word, mixed with all the anguish in Nosedive’s murmuring voice, explained the whole situation.
Well, almost all of it.
“How are the—guk!” When Nosedive coughed, Canard rolled over to the table and poured a glass of water.
“Kids are fine, like always. Miss you, but…and you know, I am capable of taking care of them for a little while, considering I can take care of myself, too…unlike other people around here.”
Nosedive narrowed his eyes before accepting the water. “I guess I’ll go check on them and then see what’s been going on.”
“Oh, no.” Canard rolled his chair into Nosedive’s knees, gaining a curse. “You need to rest. What? You think you can fall a few hundred feet, almost die, and then just get up like it’s nothing?” Canard laughed dryly. “Then again, look who I’m talking to here. You think you can take on the whole Saurian Empire and still walk away.”
Nosedive knew better than to glance at Canard’s wheelchair and instead grunted as he finally stood. To his and Canard’s surprise, his legs held him erect. Slightly hunched over, he reached for the clean clothes on the seat to the left and slipped them on slowly.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
“Maybe one here and there,” Nosedive conceded.
Clank. “Ouch!” the twenty-five year old complained and turned after Canard discharged his chair from Nosedive’s legs. He was startled by a hand clutching his shirt, pulling him down to Canard’s eye level.
“Then listen now and listen well.” The older drake’s hand shook, shocking the younger mallard into total focus. “I know what it’s like to take my life for granted, and I know, even more, the consequences of that mistake. Nosedive, I’m not going to kid around and say your life means nothing to me, and it scares me that you take it so frivolously.”
Nosedive patted Canard’s hand. “I know, but—”
“No, you don’t know. In less than a year, you’re the only who is going to be left, kid, and if I’m not here, who’s going to be the one to tell you to stop acting like an idiot? You’re going to get yourself killed, and I don’t know how Wildwing does it—watching you from wherever he is and knowing that you’re making stupid mistakes that could get you to him sooner.” Canard released him with a disgusted thrust, pushing Nosedive against the wall and sending a stab of agony through the younger’s ribs. He turned, then, and wheeled toward the door. “I’m not going to be able to watch you do it, kid. It’ll kill me again, so please, finally listen to what I’m saying. Not to mention, soon I’m not going to be here to help raise our kids. What’s going to happen, then, huh? If you don’t take care of your own life for yourself or me, then think about them.”
Nosedive watched Canard head toward the door, emotions swarming in his gut. Stars, Canard equaled his brother in guilt and shame. As the doors swooshed open, the feeling swelled into a muttered, “…I’m sorry.”
Canard halted and sighed. “Don’t be sorry. Be alive. That’s all I ask.” He shook his head. “That’s all I’ve ever asked.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Canard pivoted and smirked. “There is still one thing I don’t get in all this, kid. The rescue squad looked for you for days. They must have combed that area ten times. Where were you?”
Nosedive pushed off the wall to slap Canard on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Maybe not, but if it has to do with the five ducks locked in on our conference room, there’s a good chance I just might.”
*^*^*
Wildwing was going to make a hole in the floor eventually, which would finally get the team an exit from his confinement hell. The tiles had already begun to darken from the scuff marks of his boots, while his arms started to ache from being tucked behind his back for so long. In fact, days seemed to pass, and yet, he still felt as jittery and worried since the first one they had come to the future.
Nosedive had been hurt, Tanya thought fatally so, but the older-brother-yet-younger drake felt differently. He wouldn’t allow Nosedive to die and talked soothingly to the boy—Yes, in Wildwing’s eyes, he would always be a boy—on the entire truck ride to the American Main Resistance Base. It took two days after the twenty or so guards ushered the team onto the back of an army-type supply truck, many getting up after them. The leader, a man named Felix, had allowed Wildwing to cradle Nosedive the entire time, saying he believed in miracles and surely the Mighty Ducks had to be one. His little brother had woken up once, smiled at him, then fell unconscious again, but Wildwing took that as a good sign. Maybe his brother wasn’t so close to death after all.
Tanya
huddled close as well, checking Nosedive’s vitals when she felt the need and
all the while kept saying, “We need a doctor.” They’d gotten one the moment the
truck pulled into the base in the
And so brought Wildwing to his current state of worry.
Grin sighed and spoke abruptly. “There is a peace, a calmness—The darkness has dissipated.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Duke challenged, and Wildwing decided not to interfere. After all, all their fuses were short from being held prisoner.
“You don’t think he’s…?” Tanya asked slowly with a fleeting glance toward Wildiwng.
The older brother shook his head. “No, we’d know if he were.”
“How do you figure that?”
Wildwing shrugged. “There’re keeping us here for a reason, probably because whoever’s the leader now wants Nosedive’s explanation before talking to us. This way, as far as we know, the leader could be anybody, and who Nosedive’s successor would be is valuable information to the Saurians.”
“But if Nosedive were dead,” Tanya took over, “then they definitely would want to know our story and probably blame us for his death.”
“Exactly.”
“Look.” Mallory took her feet down from the conference table and slammed her fist against its top. “That’s great to know and all that, but I’m really curious as to how long they plan keeping us sequestered here like criminals?”
The door swooshed open in response.
“Sorry about that.”
Wildwing’s relief bled through a prolonged sigh. Before them stood Nosedive, a goofy smile upon his face. His hair was wet but clean, bangs flopped over his forehead, while he once more wore the outfit Wildwing remembered seeing a week ago, albeit clean—a T-shirt, jeans, boots, and Wildwing’s belt. The only new part Wildwing saw was the white cloth on the drake’s left arm, tightly weaved from his hand to his elbow. But none of that really mattered to the older brother. Nosedive was still alive, and that was really all he cared about.
“Apparently my second-in-command wanted to know what I knew of this before he approached you, and I’ve been out cold for the last two weeks. I hope you were well taken care of.”
“We managed, little friend.” Grin stood from his corner retreat and approached the young boy with a slap on the shoulder. Nosedive hardly kept his pain contained to his cringe.
“So, how are you feeling?” Wildwing questioned, coming up to his brother. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing the medics couldn’t handle, bro. I’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.” He patted his brother on the shoulder, then turned to the team. “So, I guess the only thing to discuss now is how to get you guys home.”
Mallory shook her head and reached for her puck launcher, which sadly was absent from her waist. “But what about Varkais? How are you going to handle him?”
Nosedive smiled her way, and Wildwing could tell his brother appreciated her worry. “He’s not your problem. I’ll deal with him when I’m ready.”
“No way, kid,” Duke interjected. “You’re a part of our team, and your problem is ours, too.”
“Not anymore.” Nosedive took a step back and crossed his arms. Wildwing caught the slight flinch. “Let’s concentrate on one problem at a time.”
“Fine, then. How about a question?” Tanya glared. “Who’s your second-in-command?”
The door appeared to take questions and give answers, for it opened once more. This time, a wheelchair rolled through at a dangerous speed. At first glance, Wildwing caught Canard, his best friend older but his face joyful, though his feather looked faded, dulled. Then, Wildwing saw the tan mallard’s legs in the wheelchair. Oh, Stars. How—? Why—?
“UNCA DIVE!”
And then he saw the hatchlings.
The one on Canard’s left knee was a little boy with bright, ever lucent azure eyes with a mop of flame hair accenting immaculate feathers that seemed to glow. Unbelievably young, the boy couldn’t have been more than five. He wore more Earth-looking type of clothes than a Puckworlder: a small T-shirt, jeans, worn Nike sneakers, and a shabby, too-big for him Champion jacket. An over-exuberant, affectionate grin tugged on the hatchling’s face.
On Canard’s other knee bounced a slightly older hatchling, whose face mirrored Canard’s in structure and complexion. His purple hair brushed over his ever piercing violet eyes, and he obviously had his mother’s beak, for his was shorter than Canard’s by far. Faded snap-up pants held his little legs, while a sweatshirt fell just below his beltline. Like his cousin, an overzealous smile split his face, and together, Crease and Reth launched off Canard’s lap and into Nosedive’s arms.
Nosedive grunted as he caught them, but his ecstatic smile never wavered. He gathered them in his arms and lifted the boys off the ground before turning their backs to the ducks, so the hatchlings wouldn’t see their supposedly dead family members.
Still grinning, Nosedive looked down at his little nephews. It was then Wildwing saw the shadows hiding in Nosedive’s eyes—fears of what he witnessed, sins he had committed, a lost draining the life from him. Then, a transformation—Crease and Reth smiled up at their uncle, and the genuine affection between the three was almost surreal—like his and Nosedive’s. And just like that, the shadows faded from his brother’s eyes.
“Oh, Stars, I missed you two so much.” He nuzzled each boy’s brows and cheeks, squeezing their little bodies gently in a bear-hug embrace.
“No way! Missed you more!” Crease shouted.
Nosedive nuzzled him again. “I don’t think that is possible.”
“Why were gone so long?” Reth asked suddenly, a sadness in his eyes. “Daddy said he didn’t know how long you were gonna be gone…” At the very end of his statement, his words trailed on.
“Gone?” Nosedive echoed, bewildered.
“For your meeting? Remember?” The father raised his eyebrows. “You remember that meeting you had to go to. I told the boys I wasn’t sure how long you would have to be at it.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. That meeting.” Nosedive turned to the boys again, a wide smile upon his face. “It went worse than expected, but nothing your Uncle Dive couldn’t handle. So, how are my favorite nephews?”
“We’re your only nephews,” Crease pouted, hitting Nosedive’s beak with his own.
“But I’m your favorite!” Reth exclaimed.
Crease smacked him on the arm. “Huh-uh. I’m his favorite!”
“Hey!” Nosedive jostled them both and a scolding frown pulled down his beak. “I love you two the same, and if you continue to fight about this— “ He let his hold upon them drop—or so it seemed.
“Hey!” Reth complained as the boys plunged, only for Nosedive to curl an arm about each boy’s waist and hold them at waist height. “Unca Dive!”
“Next time I should take them with me, huh?” Nosedive asked, and suddenly both Crease and Reth broke out in laughter. Apparently Nosedive’s fingers moved up and down the boys’ abdomen, and they squirmed in his hold, which never actually lessened. “Then maybe they wouldn’t fight so much! My little packages. I can put them in a suitcase, right?”
“I guess, but their giggles might attract someone,” Canard offered.
“Unca—” and that was as far as Crease got with his laughter.
Reth protested by lunging at his uncle’s mid-section, but Nosedive only retaliated by pretending to almost drop the boy. “Oops! Got to watch it there, Reth.”
Wildwing watched the entire scene with a soft, sad smile. What he saw warmed his heart. His son, no doubt, was loved, and by the wide smile upon the boy’s jubilant face, he loved in return. Yet, an ache tore at his heart, one he realized he shared with Mallory when her tender arm curled about his waist, and he held her opposite hand.
Nosedive continued his assault but began to jumble the boys up and down.
The doors swished open suddenly, and in strode an older woman with long, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a pair of jeans and a vest over a turtleneck shirt. Her eyes widened at the sight of Nosedive, and the resistance leader immediately stopped his goofing.
“Ah, so it is true. You are back on your feet.”
“I’m back from my meeting, if that’s what you mean, Cynthia.” He indicated to the boys in his arms, but she hardly glanced down at them. Instead, she readjusted the glasses upon her nose and looked down at the papers on her clipboard.
“Captain O’Maley has requested a few squadrons for the Eighth Sector, while Jamie requests ten minutes of your time to brief you about the Western Asian situation.”
“I didn’t
know we had a situation with
“We developed one during your two-week vacation.”
Nosedive’s face tensed. “It wasn’t a—”
The door cut off Nosedive’s response, as did the nerdy boy rushing in, his lab coat flapping behind him. “Finally, we were starting to think you’d never get up.”
“Hey, guys?” Canard interrupted, then rolled closer to take the boys from Nosedive and place them on the ground before petting them both. “Why don’t you make yourselves useful and grab your Uncle Dive a drink and maybe something to eat?”
When they glanced back at their younger uncle, Nosedive smiled affectionately and raked a hand threw both their crowns. “It would be a big help, guys. Thanks.”
“I’ll get it!” Crease perked up and dashed out the door.
“No way! I’ll get it!”
Before the door shut behind them, another man popped in, his over jacket from a former Marine’s uniform. “Excellent. Good to see you up and about, Flashblade. Now, about the defense…”
Nosedive waved absently before glaring at Canard. “You know I hate it when you say that.”
“What? Making themselves useful?” Canard snorted and shook his head in dismal. “Why, because someone said it to you years ago?”
“Well, probably,” he admitted, “but still. I hate that they have to be useful. Why can’t they just be kids?”
“Because it’s not the times we live in,” Cynthia replied.
“True, but don’t worry, kid,” Canard offered with a nudge, “you only have another year to hear it.”
Nosedive scowled, but before he mustered a retort, the door opened again and never closed. Men and women, teens and adults alike, swarmed about Nosedive.
“I need just two—”
“—signatures. That’s it. Here and—”
“—don’t read it. I’ve already done that for—”
“—what do you mean ‘no’?” I have—”
“—nothing but frivolous needs. Now me, I need those to—”
“—morrow. If you say yes, I can have the squads—”
“—doing what? Watching? We need to—”
“HOLD IT!”
The room froze, and Wildwing blinked in shock. Never as a leader had he been overwhelmed to the point where it was hard to keep track of who was talking and who was responding. Nosedive dropped his hands from his head and glared at every single person about him.
“Are any of you here to report that the Saurians are knocking on our doorstep?” When no one answered, Nosedive allowed himself a sigh of relief. “Okay, then. Conference room two, five minutes. Then, I’ll answer all your questions.”
“But Flashblade—!”
“Five minutes,
Canard shook his head and patted Nosedive on the wrist. “I’d like to see them anyone of them go through what you went through and be on their feet in two weeks.”
“It matters little, Canard. They only want their small demands, and they have to go through me to get them.” He let out a short exhale, then turned to see the ducks. “Would you mind—”
“Say no more.” Canard ushered him toward the door. “Check the radar. I’ll handle this, then meet you in conference room. Just try not to get eaten before I can get save you.”
“I’ll try.” He nodded once to Wildwing, who returned it. “Sorry, guys, but my duty awaits. I’ll meet up with you later.”
Before he even finished the sentence, he was out the door. A moment of shock and silence greeted them before the team turned to Canard. It was then Wildwing saw the exhaustion on his face, lines where they shouldn’t be for a drake his age, and even a short exhale. His friend shrugged. “Shrapnel in the spine. What more could I do?”
Wildwing hesitated only for a moment before detaching himself from Mallory and entrapping Canard in a bear hug. “Stars, it’s good to see you, buddy, and…thanks. For everything.”
“You mean for watching out for the kid?” Canard shrugged and looked back fondly at the door. “He’s a better leader than even you, Wing, as much as I hate to say it. The odds this kid has survived, it’s a miracle he’s still here.”
Wildwing graced his best friend with a proud grin. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”
“So, Canard, we never did get a straight answer from the kid,” Duke asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “What happened? How did all this—occur?”
*^*^*
Wildwing sighed as he started his promenade about the American Main Resistance Base. It wasn’t overly big—perhaps ten times the size of the Pond—but it housed almost a quarter of a million. Created with Puckworlder technology, thanks to Tanya and Thrash—Who knew he was good at electronics?—the base worked like a well-oiled machine. Canard had alluded to that fact being Nosedive’s doing, however.
“The kid’s learned how to deal with people. Our medical and mechanical technology is run by Alvin Yasbeck, the guy in the lab coat you saw.”
“Wait. You mean Mondo Man?” Mallory challenged incredulously.
Canard
snorted. “Yeah. When Nosedive found the little creep in a camp just outside of
Grin had great insight. “Define ‘decent.’ ”
“You got me there,” Canard chuckled, and he led the ducks out of the elevator and into the hallway filled with rows of doors. “Let’s just say the hostility isn’t always open. It’s more…masked. Anyway, where was I?”
“
“Right.
After Dragaunus opened the gateway and brought his fleet through, it was over.
He took out the
Somehow, after what Wildwing had seen of the future and Varkais’s skills, he really wasn’t.
“So, here we are.” Canard indicated to the last door on the right. “It should have enough beds and whatnot for you, and I’ll send up some towels and other supplies. It’s more or less an apartment since mostly everyone we house here is part of a family. If not, then we just bunk them together. This one is usually one of the traveling commander’s quarters, though. The European Resistance leader stayed here last time she visited.”
“Apparently,” Duke said as he opened the door, “we have the penthouse.”
It wasn’t, Wildwing discovered. It had two bedrooms with two beds, a couch that had long seen its prime, and a kitchen on life support. Wildwing fled the moment the others settled in and sought to find this conference room in which his brother was being attacked. Canard advised the ducks stay in their apartment to make sure no possible traitor tried to kill them or alert Dragaunus of their presence, but he never forbade them. And it wasn’t like Wildwing would have listened anyway.
Wildwing finally threw up his hands and simply followed people until one actually entered conference room two. Apparently the word spread that Nosedive was up and about, and if anyone had any questions or requests, now was the time to voice them.
When the doors open, Wildwing halted and caught a glimpse of his little brother. Nosedive paced the back of the room at the head—or supposed head—of the round table, a nephew’s crown on each shoulder. He hummed softly to the slumbering hatchlings while gently bouncing them up and down, while Canard sat just beside his path and answered questions. When he responded differently than Nosedive would’ve liked or the person pressed, the American Resistance commander took over, his voice a soft murmur but his words sharp.
Wildwing realized with a twinge he wouldn’t be helping his brother and would only be a distraction, so he decided to wait. He toured the remainder of the base, then went searching for his brother again. After five hours and several questions, he was pointed toward the top floors, where the base opened to the mountain peak. There, he found Nosedive standing on the metal platform with Reth, Canard sitting with Crease, the two older drakes speaking in hushed tones.
“I don’t like it. He’s too power hungry,” Canard grumbled.
Nosedive held the railing of the patio lightly, and his eyes focused upon the mountain peaks ahead. “Don’t worry too much. I’ll talk to him and if need be, threaten to pull all support from the American Resistance.”
“I doubt that’ll make him stop.”
“It’ll have to. Kai can’t function without the food we send him, and many of his soliders are from us.”
“True, but if he thinks this nuke will end the war—”
Wildwing’s foot crunched an ice patch, and the speed at which Nosedive and Canard whirled astounded him. He was even more shocked to see a blaster in each of their hands and the boys still asleep.
“Sorry,” Wildwing grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Nosedive dropped his gun instantly, slipping it into the holster, while Canard placed his in a pocket of his wheelchair. “My fault. I should have been listening for you.”
Stepping forward, Wildwing came to stand by Canard before bending and tentatively—no. He paused. He shouldn’t.
“Go ahead,” Nosedive urged. “He’s not going to bite.”
Wildwing looked up unsure before looking back at the sleeping hatchling on Canard’s lap. When his hand touched the boy’s hair, he never imagined it so soft or his feathers so fluffy. The body was warm, like a blanket, and he smelled like powder and…mud?
“Hard day?” Wildwing asked, standing to touch Reth as well. Ironically, his feathers were a bit softer, and his hair refused to stay out of his eyes.
“Hard few years,” Nosedive replied equally as soft.
“Y’know, maybe I should put the kids to bed.” Canard reached upward to take Reth, but Nosedive gave the boy reluctantly.
“It’s no problem—”
“No, talk to your brother.” Canard secured the boys to his chest, then rolled away. “You can check up on them later.”
Nosedive sighed and turned again to face the mountains, his face pensive in the silence. Wildwing had only seen his brother with that expression a few times in his life and only during the hardest.
“How long does Canard have?” Wildwing asked softly, hoping not to distress his brother anymore than he probably was already.
Nosedive’s hands rubbed the railing absently before his eyes focused downward. “A little more than a year, if we’re lucky. Did he tell you how he became paralyzed?”
“Yes. Shrapnel.”
“I guess he didn’t tell you passed out on the battlefield, and that’s why he wasn’t able to duck the blast, huh?”
Wildwing closed his eyes. “No…he didn’t. What’s wrong with him, Dive? I don’t see anything physically—well, other than—”
With a shake of his head, Nosedive divulged, “You wouldn’t—can’t. Wraith cast a spell on him about two years ago, which was why he passed out. It’s a draining energy spell. For anything—like our duel core cells—it would simply drain the electricity. For a living being—”
“—it drains life force,” Wildwing finished with a whisper.
Nosedive nodded, then returned his gaze toward the mountains, that thoughtful look of intense concentration once more contorting htheis little brother’s face.
The older brother suddenly wanted to hit himself. All this was his fault. Nosedive wouldn’t be in his predicament if not for Wildwing. He would never had been on Earth, would never had been exposed to Varkais’s torture and the team’s deaths, would never have been the leader of the Resistance.
All of this was because Wildwing refused to let his baby brother go.
There was nothing he could say to make up for the hardships and the pain he had caused Nosedive, yet he still found his tongue forming the words, “Dive, I’m sor—”
Wildwing never saw the punch, only felt the stinging in his cheek, and the hard ground underneath him. He touched the injured area, then looked up at Nosedive with incredulity. Did his brother just—
Nosedive glared down bitterly before shaking his head and once more retreating to the edge of the platform. “Stars, I knew that was going to happen. I was so hoping it wouldn’t, but y’know, you just can’t let anything go, can you? You just have to take the blame for everything.”
“Wait.” Wildwing pushed off the ground. “You’re angry at me for simply saying I’m sor—”
Nosedive flinched. Then, his shoulders, shaking from fury, drooped, and he simply let the tension bleed from him through his words. “It’s not about your feelings. It’s the words. I…I never thought there would be a time in my life when I could hate you—actually, truly loathe you, and then, for about a three-year period, that’s all I felt toward you. I put you in the same level of hate that I usually hold for only the Saurians, if not lower.”
The gutted confession hit harder than any punch Nosedive could’ve thrown, and for a moment, Wildwing simply hung in the air, numb to the core. An sadness so strong attacked him to the point of a physical ache, and he hardly found the energy to take a few steps forward and ask, “…why?”
Nosedive let out a dry laugh. “You know what your last words were to me? ‘I’m sorry.’ Not ‘I love you, bro,’ or ‘I’ll always be with you,’ or something like that. Just, ‘I’m sorry.’ Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Nosedive glared at Wildwing, as if the older brother should remember exactly what transpired—five years ago from the present but at least three years away for him. “How would that help to console me when you’re hanging from a noose, and I’m helpless to stop it? How does that change anything? ‘I’m sorry.’ Yeah, well, know what I say that to that, don’t you?”
Wildwing refused to allow his imagination to answer that.
When Nosedive finally spoke again, his voice was calm, and an anguish, far greater than Wildwing’s, crept into it. “So, for about three years, I truly hated you. You have no idea how much. Oh, for more than just your last words. I hated you for leaving and blamed your death solely on you—well, and Dreg for not alerting you. I hated you for not finding someway to save me that day and leaving me in the clutches of the Saurians.” He smirked slightly, though Wildwing’s heart ached at the emptiness in it. “They left me there, by the way. Varkais thought it would be a great test to see if I could survive the heartache of losing you and simply watching your body sway back and forth until the others found me. Took them four days, but it felt like an eternity.”
Instantly, Wildwing wrangled his brotherly hurt away from his own emotions to place a hand on Nosedive’s shoulder. The drake hardly noticed it, lost in the past. He leaned his elbows on the railing and ducked his head. “I didn’t realize what I had really done until I almost died. There was a huge battle out in East, and when my captain there counted the Saurian forces, he begged for reinforcements. Seeing that Dragaunus was slated to be there, I went, and…well, I was hurt pretty badly. It was actually after that battle that Canard and I decided not to tell kids how bad I’m injured because Crease and Reth cried for days afterward.
“But I realized, as I held them in my arms, that if I were to die, they would be devastated…or worse. They could be taken in the Saurians and tortured or…” He shivered. “And what if they decided to be like me, taking over for my fallen family member? I don’t want them to live this life. I don’t want them to deal with what I’ve had to. I want to them to have better, and if I were to die before the Saurians are eradicated, there would be only one response…what you told me.
“There would be no other words. I would be sorry for so many things that I wouldn’t be able to describe them all, and love? Please. They know I love them, and they know I would be watching over them. So, really, all that would be left is to apologize.”
He reached up and acknowledged Wildwing, squeezing his brother’s hand. “And then I realized all my hate had been nothing more than an escape from the pain. If I hated, then I didn’t hurt. I didn’t deal with your death, and at the time, I couldn’t.” He laughed wetly and weighed down by the tears Wildwing hadn’t noticed until now. “I still don’t think I have.”
Wildwing leaned forward to be even with Nosedive and rubbed the younger brother’s back. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Nosedive, watching as he was hanged and not being able to do anything about it. It would’ve killed Wildwing as he suspected it did his brother. The only reason Nosedive went on was because he had to because there were people who needed him to. If Crease wasn’t born or Reth or Canard wasn’t there, Wildwing doubted his little brother would have been next to him at that moment.
And the only thing he could say, he wouldn’t.
“Unca Dive?”
The tiny voice sounded more kind and gentle, innocent and lovable, than the leader ever heard, and Wildwing found himself knowing he would never hear one just as poignant. The hatchling standing in the doorway wore a goalie’s glove on his left hand, and Wildwing knew instinctively knew it was his. Like humans used teddy bears, Crease used his glove to protect him at night from horrors all too real. He was dressed in pajama bottoms with his uncle’s jersey from years ago. Wildwing had to laugh at how well it fit him.
“Hey, kiddo, what are doing you up, huh?” Wiping his tears from his face, Nosedive knelt down to his nephew’s height and beckoned the boy over.
Crease wasted no time in bouncing into his uncle’s arms. “You’re crying. Why are you crying?”
“Memories,” he whispered before standing, then debated. After a moment, he nodded once to himself and shifted so Crease saw his father.
And Wildwing met his son’s eyes—his own eyes—for the first time.
“Crease, I want you to meet your father.”
Any breath in Wildwing’s lungs fled, and that perky voice asked bluntly, “Isn’t he dead?”
Nosedive laughed, this time with some humor, and that simple fact drew a small smile on Wildwing’s beak. “Well, yes, he is now, but this is your father from a few years ago…” He leaned over, while pressing one side of Crease’s head to his chest and covering the boy’s other ear with his hand, “I’m screwing him for life now, aren’t I?”
“What does
‘screwing’ mean?”
Wildwing couldn’t help but
snort. Then, his face slowly melted of good nature and froze in horror as
Nosedive hefted Crease toward him. His hands immediately flew upward in a
gesture of giving up or no, but Nosedive ushered, “Come on. He’s your son, and
you never did get to hold him. Might as well now.”
That simple revelation caused Wildwing’s hands to curl under Crease’s butt and accept his weight. The boy easily fit his muscular arms, and his chest seemed to naturally accept the red crown in its crease.
The boy giggled and moved his head to look into Wildwing’s before slapping his hands over his father’s cheeks. “How come you have lines under your eyes?”
“They’re from your uncle’s antics,” Wildwing said easily. “He made me old very fast.”
“How come you aren’t here now?”
The question hurt harder than he thought, and he noticed the same pain in his heart, in Nosedive’s sad smile. “Because Fate didn’t work out that way, but know it’s not because I didn’t want to be with you.”
“Oh…what’s fate?”
Wildwing struggled with the definition, which Nosedive supplied easily as, “A force that makes our future,” with a little scrunch of the boy’s shirt back.
Crease nodded as if he understood, even though Wildwing doubted he did, then looked back at his father. “Unca Dive said you said you caught Momma with your body and not your glove. How come?”
“Okay!” Nosedive snatched the boy from his father’s grip, leaving Wildwing bereft, and hurried out the door. “Time for bed!”
*^*^*
The blaring disturbed Wildwing’s rest sleep, and he moaned from discomfort. He ignored it for a moment as he felt the warmth against his side and chest, and when he opened his eyes, the flashing red light paled comparison to the heavenly sight before him. Laying on his chest was Crease, who still slept soundlessly through the alarm, while Mallory huddled against his body, one hand in his, the other upon Crease’s back. She wore an overly big T-shirt, one of his it appeared, and baggy sweatpants, while he simply wore a sweatpants and sweatshirt.
After Wildwing caught up to his brother last night, Nosedive offered for Crease to meet Mallory since the boy wouldn’t remember from his past, and he should meet his parents if he had the opportunity. Nosedive left him with them when he went to do some paperwork, and apparently, they fell asleep on the couch before he came back.
The alarm finally broke through his bliss when Duke shook his arm and shouted, “The base is under attack!”
The terrible small couch, too, assaulted his back, and Wildwing discovered half of his body wasn’t actually on the furniture. Shock caused him to slide off, awaking both Mallory and Crease. However, the boy did nothing more than whine and cuddle against his father’s chest when Wildwing put a secure hand about his body.
“Attack?” Mallory demanded over the alarm, and Duke nodded emphatically.
“Canard says to meet him in the Ready Room now.”
Tanya and Grin joined them shortly, and together, with Crease upon Wildwing’s hip, they dashed to meet their former and future teammate. Wildwing remembered his way from his tour the night prior but found it harder to get to since the base was in complete chaos. Revolutionaries flooded the hallways, hurrying and pushing and shouting orders as they made their way to their assigned areas, and children were ushered toward the hanger.
The Ready Room appeared cramped compared to the one at the Pond. Dark green lights barely lit the area and cast shadows about the room, while its height barely allowed Grin inside. Radar screens, infrared scanners, and communication outlets lined the walls, and in the middle of the room spun a lucent and transparent globe with what appeared to be blue and red marking—blue markings for the resistance members, red for the Saurians. Only those who ran the various activities were allowed inside the room—and the Mighty Ducks.
Canard wheeled over them the moment they entered. “Short explanation—The Saurians have somehow managed to find our base, and we’re evacuating to another one in the Sierra-Nevadas. We don’t have much time, so you’ll have to—”
“Where’s Dive?” Wildwing demanded.
Canard’s face fell, and he took a deep breath before revealing, “Where else? On the frontlines—”
And Wildwing’s heart stopped.
No…
To Be Continued…